Free Where is the Baby? by Charlotte Vale Allen

we’ll put on the bottoms. You can hold my arm while we get these on. Good. Now, the top. There! How does it feel?’
    Humaby took her hands over her arms and legs, examining the sensation, then said, ‘I like it, Miss Connie! It feels
nice
.’
    â€˜I’m glad. We’ll try the sneakers on later. Okay?’
    â€˜â€™Kay.’
    â€˜Could I give you a kiss?’ Connie asked.
    Humaby’s brow furrowed. ‘In my mouth?’
    â€˜No, sweetie. On the cheek.’
    â€˜Why?’ she asked worriedly.
    â€˜Because I like you and care about you. Giving a kiss is a way to show how you feel about someone.’
    A tide of doubt washed over the child’s face.
    Guilt, thick and gluey, collected in Connie’s throat. The child had no comprehension of gentle gestures. ‘It’s all right, sweetie,’ she said quietly. ‘It was wrong of me to ask you. We’ll forget about it.’
    Not sure how it worked, but wanting to please her, Humaby leaned over and pressed her lips to Connie’s cheek, then asked, ‘That okay?’
    â€˜That was lovely, the nicest kiss I’ve ever had. Thank you so much.’
    In a relieved rush, the child said, ‘You’re welkin, Miss Connie.’ Searching Connie’s eyes, she asked, ‘You gonna read for me again?’
    â€˜I’d love to. But first I have to take a few pictures – just of your face, to show how pretty you look. Would that be all right?’
    â€˜I guess. But why?’
    â€˜Mister Brian and the other policemen are going to show your picture to lots of people and try to find your family.’
    â€˜What if I don’t
have
a family?’
    â€˜Then arrangements will be made to find you a new one.’
    â€˜That’s what Mister Brian said.’ Humaby looked over at the window, wondering if a new family would live in a van, too.
    â€˜And he was right. This’ll only take a minute.’
    â€˜Miss Connie, one of the nurse ladies said children like ka-toons.’ She pointed at the TV. ‘But bunnies and animals get hurted and there’s lots of big noises that’re scary.’
    â€˜Would you like me to turn it off?’
    â€˜Yeah. Why would children like those?’
    â€˜I really don’t know. I never liked them when I was a kid.’ Connie found the remote and switched off the set. ‘I was born in another country where there wasn’t any TV. It wasn’t until we came here, when I was little like you, that I saw a cartoon. It scared me.’
    Blinking at the now dark screen, Humaby said, ‘You got ascared?’
    â€˜Yes, I did.’
    â€˜And you was little like me?’
    â€˜Yes, I was.’
    â€˜But now you’re growed up and don’t get scared anymore, right?’
    â€˜Sometimes, I do. Grown-ups get scared the same as little kids do, sweetie.’
    â€˜I didn’t know that.’
    â€˜Well, we do.’ Connie offered one of her big smiles, then said, ‘If it’s okay with you, I’ll take the pictures now and we’ll be done with it.’ Connie got her camera from the case before adjusting the curtains to brighten the room. She sat the girl at an angle on the side of the bed so that the available light lent a lovely glow to her features, and quickly took a dozen close-ups from different angles. ‘All done,’ she announced. ‘Thank you very much. You made my job so easy. You are
such
a good girl. Now we can read until your lunch comes.’ She glanced at her watch. She’d have plenty of time to process the negs, print the film, then rush the best full-face and profile shots to the repro place to get copies made.
    â€˜Lunch is food?’
    â€˜That’s right. Breakfast is what you eat when you wake up, lunch is what you have in the middle of the day, and dinner is what you have near the end of the day a little before it’s time for you to go to bed. Are you